The Clay Pit.

I’ve found my favorite restaurant in Austin — The Clay Pit. Disguised in a old, worn brick building on Guadalupe Street, this longtime spot serves up contemporary Indian cuisine in a comforting, accessible style. As I opened the door the smell that greeted me was overwhelmingly rich and distinctly exotic — filled with curry and spice.

A long, narrow, open room extended to the far side of the restaurant with deep brown wooden floors contrasting the muted, antique brick walls. The ambiance was subtle at first, but over the course of the meal, I realized how comforting and unobtrusive was the simple, mature aging of the interior.

The menu was daunting, packed with flavors, textures and ingredients that I had never heard of but knew I wanted to try. Dining with my experimental and inquisitive father helped. We ordered chicken Samosas, chicken Tandoori Bites, vegetables Pakoras and Peshwari Naan as appetizers to test out our palettes. We passed the plates around, dipping our anxious forks into each, savoring the newness of the flavors.

My favorite was the naan, thinly baked bread which closely resembles pita that was lightly stuffed with nuts, raisins and cherries. It was served warm and the sweetness simply melted in my mouth. The chicken Tandoori bites, small marinated pieces of chicken, were made by the tikka masala that was served on the side — a rich, authentic, classic Indian sauce. The vegetable pakoras, breaded in chickpeas and spices, were healthy, fresh and crisp.

For dinner, I ordered conservatively since I was already feeling the affects of the appetizers — my stomach was filling up and quickly. After a long decision process, I opted for the Tandoori vegetables. Served over a bed of sizzling onions, the dish featured a mix of broccoli, zucchini, bell pepper, paneer, pineapple and red onion. The vegetables were sweet and moist, baked in a traditional Tandoor sauce and served with a side of basmati rice. And tikka masala sauce, which I slathered on, of course.

My dad ordered from the curry house, pairing lamb with the jeera saag sauce — a puree of spinach cooked with roasted cumin and spices. This dish allows you to pick a sauce along with lamb, chicken, vegetables, beef, paneer or shrimp. You can also customize the spice level, my father opting for medium and glad he did — any hotter and he would have had sweat drops falling from his forehead into his meal.

When the food arrived, our conversations ended but the motion of our forks did not — which I have come to associate with the sign of a good meal. We passed our dishes around, sharing in the experience, basking in the foreign flavors and intricate spice combinations that are relatively unfamiliar to us. The meal was one to remember — an ideal blend of a tranquil dining atmosphere, moments of father-daughter bonding and of course, a savory and invigorating array of nontraditional, tantalizing food.